


Lunch Hour

by thewaynecondition



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: M/M, improper treatment of a very nice desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaynecondition/pseuds/thewaynecondition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officer John Blake pays a visit to Wayne Enterprises on his lunch break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch Hour

The slowing of tires over shifting asphalt reminded John of the sound of water pulling sand away from the shore. His two sole trips to the beach--in his life--were fucked. Firstly with the boys and Father Reilly one summer afternoon, when the Wayne Foundation found a thousand extra dollars in profit to donate. And again with a prospective family that lost interest six months after he'd started to feel like he'd found a new home. 

The first time he spent most of the day at Reilly's side, unable to swim and unwilling to admit it. The second he put out of his mind. But in both instances, John sat close enough to the rise of the tide to watch it snatch sediment back into the ocean without getting more than his toes wet. It made sense to him that the patrol car seemed to displace the world around him as absolutely as the ocean did the land, whether he was racing down 63rd with his sirens blaring or just here at Wayne Enterprises coasting to a casual stop. His plans for this lunch break were anything but procedural, practical, but if all went well, it would certainly change things in the long run between him and a certain prince of the city. 

John snorted at himself and got out of the car, slamming the door shut and locking up behind. People tended to pause and look at an officer in full uniform. Maybe searching for the danger his presence foretold--or admiring the look of an outsider in a place so pristine it made his eyes hurt. Almost every inch of Wayne tower was made of glass or reflective marble, buffed and glossed to perfection. The people much the same. He ducked his head for the sake of some privacy and walked to the front desk, leaning just slightly over the African American woman sitting behind it. Her silver plaque read: Jessica.

"Excuse me. I'm here to see Mr. Wayne."

"Is he expecting you," she looked up from her computer and gave him a quick once over, "Officer Blake?"

"No. He isn't."

"Mr. Wayne doesn't take unscheduled visits even from--

"--even from the Police," John nodded, "I've heard that. He'll take this one."

She didn't seem convinced. Still, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and picked up the phone, pursed lips and all. It rang twice and John could hear Bruce answer on the other end.

"Jessica," he said, "now isn't a good time."

"I know Mr. Wayne. I apologize, but there's an officer here to see you and he won't take no for an answer."

"Gordon?"

"No. Blake."

There was a pause and John had to keep from smiling when he heard the curt,"Send him up," echo through the receiver. 

"Yes, Sir," she said and hung up. For John, she rolled her chair out from behind her desk and pointed 'down the hall and to the left' for the elevators.

"Thanks," he said before going.

The topmost floor of the building might have actually been worse than the ground floor, as far as aesthetics went. All of the offices were made of four walls of glass, some with blinds to maintain the faux privacy each of the workers might require. The ceiling and floor, so white and shiny that John could see himself, every buckle on the uniform. 

Bruce was waiting by his door, one hand on the frame the other at his side very carefully hanging there as though his stress had forced him to make every conscious effort not to clench. But John knows. Two board members left the room--clearly miffed at their impromptu dismissal--and John stepped in in their place, the door shut and locked behind him. 

In the seconds after, Bruce lowered all of the blinds, twisted them shut and leaned against his desk, as casual as John ever saw him.

"How can I help you, Officer Blake?"

John's smile dimpled his face, "Is that how it is?"

"Were you expecting special treatment after one meal?"

"One meal and a couple flings? Yeah. Besides, it was damn good food."

"It was." Bruce's own smile (his real one) barely has any outward tells but his hazel eyes flickered with excitement. This visit was a break in an otherwise dull day. John had come for something. The only thing to do now was wait and find out what.

As it was, he didnt have to wait long. GCPD lunch breaks were only a half hour long and it took John ten minutes to get to the building in all the afternoon traffic. He stepped forward into Bruce's space, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward into a kiss. When their lips met his fingers curled, scratching lightly at Bruce's scalp, gripping the neatly gelled hairs at his nape and holding him in place. Bruce's own thumbs rubbed behind John's ears and fuck him if he wasn't already cheating a month into their relationship. John sighed and pushed Bruce back against the desk, forcing him to sit as his hands lowered and pushed off the stuffy suit jacket, yanked at the knot of his tie.

"I have my uniform; you have yours," Bruce whispered between them.

"But this isn't it."

John stood up and took a step back. Even though his chest was heaving and his ears were slightly red, with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed he did look like a hardened street cop. A very small (very young) place inside Bruce still reacted to that sight. Bruce stood too, shirt rumpled and hair just slightly mussed.

"Officer?"

"Turn around, put your hands on the desk," John ordered. Smirks bloomed all around but Bruce complied, spreading his legs too for good measure.

"Have I been a bad--

"--dont even say it."

Bruce bit back a snicker. Ten fingers gripped the edges of the desk, shined smooth enough that Bruce could see the anticipation in his face; and he could watch John approach before ten fingers, wide palms, found their way back onto his body. Maybe he was feeling rather playful but it amused Bruce to no end that he couldn't tell whether or not the firm press at the small of his back was John's night stick or.....

He gasped when John gripped him through the soft material of his suit pants. John squeezed at the base of his cock and kissed Bruce's neck. He massaged up to the tip then squeezed again, harder, making Bruce groan, his knees quiver. 

John kissed up to Bruce's ear, pulled down Bruce's zipper, "We got interrupted the other night."

"Alfred didn't know I was having company."

"Well," John ran his blunt nails back and forth over the material of Bruce's boxers pressing harder and harder until Bruce was breathing roughly and trying to get more contact, "now Jessica knows you have company."

They laughed.

"I need this desk to pretend to do things, John. Those board members will be back this afternoon."

"I'm not interested in pretending with you."

Cold air hit Bruce's skin and he bit into his lip as John gripped him flush, calloused fingers pushing at Bruce's full veins and teasing the folds of his glands. John set a pace that held no room for questioning, moving from base to tip in long strokes that twisted on their way up. Bruce's tip was wet in seconds and when John saw, he pressed them forward so that Bruce's slit left a slick line clinging on the desk. He pumped faster. All of their discipline and there was nothing to do with it in this moment but keep as quiet as humanly possible. The only sound in the office was that of the air conditioner set to keep the building at a comfortable 72 degrees all year round. And the wet slap of John jerking Bruce off at an ever increasing rate.

When he came, Bruce grunted and gripped the edge of the desk hard enough to send a hair splinter up through the finish of the wood. John kept going until Bruce was grimacing and holding his wrist still, tendrils of pain taking away his haze. He hunched over to collect himself but after a while, John noticed his shoulders shivering under his crisp white shirt. Bruce was laughing.   
  
"You're not cleaning that up, are you?"

John kissed Bruce's graying temple and stepped back, "Nope. My lunch break is over. Foley's going to be up my ass."

"Let's hope not."

"Very funny."

"But what about you? I can't have you telling the tabloids that Bruce Wayne is a selfish lover. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"Then you might want to start telling Alfred when you have company."

Bruce blushed. The goddamn batman. John took that as his cue and all but victory marched to the door. 

"I'll see you after my beat."

"Take care, Officer Blake."

John opened the door and stepped out with a curt nod. "Mr. Wayne."


End file.
